


Midnight escapades

by StarrySkies282



Series: Heaven Help a Fool Who Falls in Love [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/F, Fluff, I'm Bad At Summaries, Mainly POV Natasha, Natasha is completely in love with Wanda, Picnics, Stargazing, but that’s okay because wanda loves her back, i guess, late night adventures, umm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrySkies282/pseuds/StarrySkies282
Summary: Wanda is ready for a quiet night.But will she get it when Natasha is around?Not likely...Shenanigans ensueOr: Natasha surprises Wanda





	Midnight escapades

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes so I haven’t posted in a while (oops). I’ve been so busy with school starting back and uni application stuff (not fun I tell you), but finally, here is the next part! Hope you all enjoy x

Night had settled across the compound, which, for Wanda, meant a hot bath and time to unwind with a book (this time it was _Little Women_) and one of her herbal teas. The other Avengers, namely Natasha, always ensured she had a constant supply of them. Tonight, it was chamomile, and the delicate, honeyed aroma filled the room, combining with the rosy half-light of her lamp to create an atmosphere of warmth and comfort.

She cherished these nights.

Yes, she loved the team games nights or curling up to watch a movie on the couch with Natasha, but there was just something beguiling about the luxury of being able to sit, undisturbed, and read. Perhaps it was that she had never quite been able to before. Now, however, there was a whole library at her disposal. _And_ there was Natasha, who had proven to be a voracious reader herself, and was always willing to offer Wanda a recommendation.

She was so utterly lost in her book, her mind far afield, invested in the lives of the March family, that she failed to hear the faint THWACK outside her window. 

Completely unbeknownst to her, Natasha was outside, in the dark, scaling up the drainpipe outside her window. 

The sound came again, slightly louder this time, drawing Wanda’s attention, but she was no stranger to strange noises, and dismissed it as pigeons. 

(They got everywhere. And Wanda meant _everywhere_. Clint once had a whole flock of them in his room because he’d left his window open and was a ‘complete slob’ as Natasha was wont to put it, leaving his pizza crusts on the floor. It had taken him the best part of an afternoon to get rid of them.)

Louder, she heard it again, somewhat insistent— if that was at all possible.

_Perhaps she should—_

(She didn’t even get to finish the thought, it had all happened so suddenly).

With an almighty CRACK, the glass gave way, splintering and shattering into a thousand pieces onto Wanda’s floor, causing her to scream, red sparks curling around her fingers in response.

And then, if that wasn’t enough, Natasha’s head appeared, peering through the broken window, amusement on her face.

Wanda swore in Sokovian.

“What the hell Nat?”

“I thought these windows were supposed to be bulletproof,” returned Natasha by way of explanation, completely unfazed by the fact she had just broken into her girlfriend’s room, and, via the window no less.

_Maybe this is what happens if you date a spy_, thought some part of Wanda’s brain, and she made a mental note to ask Laura if Clint ever did things like this.

“You couldn’t have used the door? I could’ve hurt you!” Exclaimed Wanda, still shaken as the wispy red sparks began to fade.

“This way was easier,” she shrugs, “and much quicker. Anyway we gotta go, Cap needs us.” 

Wanda’s eyes went wide at those last words, knowing it could only mean trouble. Without further comment, she hurriedly began rooting around in her closet for clothes to throw on, settling for her warmest sweater— if the chill wind coming in through her broken window was anything to go by. 

So much for a relaxing evening.

“Tony’s gonna be so mad,” says Wanda, eyeing the broken glass littering the floor, hands twisting in the sleeves of her sweater.

“_Relax_, we’ll just tell him it was pigeons or something.”

“_Pigeons_?” Wanda cries out in disbelief, staring at Natasha like she’d gone mad.

“It worked for Clint.”

“That’s because that time, it actually _was_ pigeons.” 

“We’ll figure it out later,” assures Natasha. “But right now we have to go.”

She climbs over to the ledge, careful to avoid the broken glass.

Wanda eyes her warily, before glancing at the door, which is the more obvious option, surely.

Apparently not to Natasha.

“Down is easier than up, little witch.”

Sighing heavily, Wanda follows her out—or rather down— into the night.

—

“What’s the situation?” The brunette asks, trying to be practical and also not fall to her death.

“Security breach on the outer perimeter.”

_Outer_ _perimeter_. That was some way away. 

Wanda groans.

Tony had insisted on the compound having elaborate grounds, for “training purposes” he claimed, or “if anyone wants to keep chickens.”

(No one was keeping chickens.) 

This definitely was _not_ going to be the relaxing night she had hoped for. 

“We have to hurry,” Natasha tells her, half dragging Wanda until they’re both running across the compound in the crisp September air.

The wind picks up, tugging at Wanda’s hair, sending it streaming behind her like a banner.

Natasha looks over her shoulder to see Wanda behind her and smiles under the cover of darkness: she looks regal like that, with her flushed cheeks and her brunette tresses, eyes shining, illuminated by the moonlight.

“Not much further,” she calls to Wanda, slowing down as they reach the crest of a hill.

“I don’t see any sign of a breach or a struggle,” returns Wanda, scanning the surroundings and noticing that there was no Steve to be seen either.

Panic begins to bubble up inside of her— what if whoever had broken the perimeter had captured Steve?

Eyes straining, they eventually come to rest on a wicker hamper and a blanket laid out across the ground, and realisation dawns on her face.

“There is no security breach, is there? Steve doesn’t need our help, does he?” Questions Wanda suspiciously, turning to face the redhead.

“Well, no,” admits Natasha, to which, in response, she gets an armful of Sokovian, who launches herself with full force at the former assassin, wrapping her arms tightly around Natasha, almost knocking them both to the ground. Natasha, momentarily stunned, returns the embrace with just as much force.

When they eventually break apart, Wanda eyes Natasha with wonder.

“You lured me out here for a picnic?”

“Well, you did say you’d never been to one—”

“So you broke my window, scared me half to death and lied to me to get me here,” finishes Wanda, teasing Natasha, smiling in spite of herself. Really, she’s happy.

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Can’t we just enjoy the night?” Asks Natasha, leading Wanda to sit beside her on the checked blanket Steve had helped her find. 

Wanda allows herself to be led, keeping hold of Natasha’s hand, which is warm in her own cold one.

Perhaps she should have bought a coat with her.

She shivers and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hot chocolate, malyshka?” offers Natasha, relinquishing her hand long enough to find the flask and mugs she had packed into the hamper.

Wanda nods in approval, reminded of the first time she had tasted Nat’s hot chocolate. It was a well known fact amongst the Avengers that Natasha made the best hot chocolate, and Wanda had to agree. It was, by far the best: comparable to nothing she had ever tasted before.

Accepting the mug gratefully, she takes a sip, letting the warmth wash over her and seep into her very bones. It’s rich and creamy and so soothing, completely unlike those powdered versions they sold in supermarkets.

She sighs in satisfaction, leaning into Natasha and Natasha shifts slightly so eventually they’re lying shoulder to shoulder looking up at the sky. 

It’s a clear night and the stars are out, bright enough to be seen even in New York with all its light pollution.

“So, does this picnic come with any food?” Quips Wanda.

Natasha makes a sound, feigning offence and produces a plate piled with cookies.

“Chocolate chip?” Asked Wanda hopefully.

“Well I remember how much you liked them last time,” grins Natasha as Wanda snags a cookie from the plate.

It’s just as good, probably even better than the first time Natasha made them for her, she finds.

How lucky she is to have Natasha.

They’re quiet for a while, both lying there, hands laced together, until Wanda breaks the silence, pointing: “That up there, that’s Polaris, the North Star, she says softly. “The brightest one in the sky.”

The redhead raises an eyebrow, more in admiration for the girl who continues to surprise her than anything else.

“I read a book about the stars from the library, explains Wanda somewhat sheepishly, mistaking Natasha’s raised eyebrows for judgement.

Realising this, Natasha changes tact, smiling at her warmly, encouraging her to continue. It works.

“And that one there, that’s Cygnus, the swan, it’s called. And over there is Delphinium, which is quite easy to spot this time of year...”

As she points out the various constellations, Natasha knows she ought to be paying attention, really she should, because Wanda just sounds so excited, so full of wonder and enthusiasm, but she just can’t help being distracted by Wanda herself.

It’s Wanda’s fault really, she thinks, for being this beautiful. That the universe allowed this much beauty to manifest itself in one person is a rare phenomenon— a phenomenon Natasha is sorely glad is hers.

It’s out of her control, she decides. There’s no way she couldn’t be drawn to Wanda in that moment. More so because Wanda is completely, utterly unaware of her beauty and the full effect she has on Natasha. She’s like a piece of artwork. A da Vinci maybe, or a Van Gogh.

(Jeez when did she become such a romantic?)

It’s the way she displays emotion, the excitement in her voice; her smiles that could rival all the stars she was talking about.

God, how did she ever get so lucky.

Natasha is vaguely aware Wanda has stopped speaking, and is, no doubt, awaiting a response.

“Beautiful,” she breathes, deeming it an appropriate response and placing a kiss to Wanda’s forehead. But she’s not talking about the sky. Unless the sky was Wanda. Yes, Wanda could be her whole damn sky and all the stars in it and that would be enough. More than enough.

She wants to treasure this moment forever. To take it out and relive its perfectness on the days that aren’t so good. To remember the feeling of Wanda’s head pressed against her shoulder, the slight tickle of her brunette hair as it brushed along Natasha’s chin and the smell of her flowery perfume.

So she seizes her opportunity and snaps a candid picture of Wanda with her hair fanned out around her head like a halo and her eyes reflecting the starlight and her smile that could power cities, leaving Stark’s renewable energy plans in the gutter.

She’ll keep it in her jacket pocket when she’s on a mission. Or she’ll probably frame it and put it next to the few photos she displays in her room.

Yes, she definitely will.

(It’ll go right next to the one of the that time they tried to make pizza. They’re all covered in an inordinate amount of flour and Sam has pizza sauce on his nose and Steve has dough in his hair.)

She’ll display it proudly on her dresser, the photo of Wanda, the girl who makes Natasha feel like she can fly. The one she’d do absolutely anything for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
What do you think? Feedback is always appreciated x


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